Walker
by whowouldathought
Summary: Post-MSF. Daryl/Maggie slow burn. The group's back on the road, Maggie and Daryl are both depressed…rated M for future "adult situations". I have no plot in mind, just my love for this pairing, so feel free to offer suggestions!
1. Chapter 1

She felt like one of them. The walkers. Trudging down the road. With the others, but not _with _them. She let them take care of her, but she didn't really care if they did or not.

It felt like they'd been on the road for years, but it had only been a few days. She was sure she knew where they were headed, but she had no interest in it. This world was like a dream she had just woken up from and was slowly forgetting, piece by blurry piece.

Glenn was always by her side, but it wasn't him she wanted. There was some kind of numb guilt about this, but she couldn't make herself care enough to respond to his pleas for her sanity. She simply drifted, body and mind. What in the world had happened? Something terrible. It was right there, pushed deep into a corner of her mind; hidden but not very well. She kept it there, held it at bay. She wasn't ready to open that door yet. She felt she might never be.

Rick was in front of her. He always was. She felt the others drift around her like loud ghosts. She heard their voices, but nothing registered. She envied their peace of mind. She knew what they were all thinking. _Thank God it wasn't my loved one_. No, it wasn't. Beth was _hers_. Her grief to carry forever and ever and ever.

Unless she just shut it down. Walked like an animal across the earth, no mind for anything but her next breath. The loneliness and solitude behind this thought was so enticing; yet at times, it could unleash that torrent behind her eyes. Make her throat choke up, make her want to beg for mercy from someone, anyone. She cut it off, stared at the ground in front of her feet, let Glenn's hand on her arm guide her to wherever. There was nothing.

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She heard him whispering about her at night. He had laid her down just outside their circle, pillowing her head gently on an old jacket of some sort. She stared out into the trees, waiting patiently for the monsters to come. She knew he thought she wasn't listening, assumed her catatonic state would shield his voice. But she heard him. She didn't care, but she heard.

"We have to do something. I don't know what's wrong with her. I mean…I _know_ what's wrong. But she can't go on like this."

Rick's rough grumble: "She'll snap out of it. She's gonna have to. Until then, she's still up and moving everyday. As long as she's keeping up with us, I'm not worried."

Glenn, more vehemently, but still trying to whisper in the dark: "Well, _I'm_ worried. We've been lucky so far. There haven't been any herds. Or for God's sake, any other _people_. But how long is that going to last? She needs to be able to take care of herself. I can only do so much in that situation. I can't lose her."

His voice was starting to break. It almost moved her. But she didn't want to be moved by anyone. It was too comfortable here in the unfeeling void.

She heard a noise from amongst the trees, directly in front of her. The others were still talking, but this soft tread of footsteps on leaves was more apt to draw her attention. If it were a walker, would she get up? Would her subconscious animal self take control? She listened more intently and decided she would continue to lie there like a stone until she found out. The footsteps moved closer, and now she could tell it was no walker. She was still attuned to the sounds of this new world. The idea of a living person alerted her slightly more. Enough to shift her gaze around and try to find the source.

There he was, his sullen face drawing light from the small campfire as he entered the clearing. The only other person who seemed as broken as she. Of course, he was used to all of this. He may not be over it, but he could live with it. He pulled the strap of his bow over his head, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked consumed with anger. She wished she could feel angry. Anger meant the possibility of change. She held his gaze purposefully, willing him to see something behind _her_ eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Short one. Just putting something on paper. No Daryl, sorry. But of course, he will be making an appearance again soon!**

She woke with Glenn's arm thrown around her. She tried to recall the time in her life that that had been a comfort. Now it just felt ridiculous. Seriously, what was the point of all this? Of trying to make a life?

She sat up slowly, letting his arm slide down her side, and she turned around to look at his face. Peaceful. She felt that guilt again, guilt from another life. What was there to feel guilty about now, in a world where people literally ate each other alive? Yet it wasn't his fault that she had suddenly come to this realization. That nothing mattered anymore. She placed a hand softly on his cheek, watched him smile in his sleep. He didn't deserve any of this. She decided that she would try. What would be the point of not?

"You're awake."

The voice came from behind her and Glenn. She glanced up to see Michonne leaning back against a tree, knees drawn up in front of her, ever-present sword across her lap.

"Come with me. Let's get you cleaned up."

Maggie nodded and slowly disengaged herself from Glenn, standing on legs that felt wobbly and new like a colt's. Michonne pushed herself up too, and the two of them walked away from the group. Only Sasha was awake, pushing at ashes in the dying fire with a twig. Straight-faced, she barely gave them notice. Maggie realized she wasn't the only one with some issues these days.

When they were far enough away from the others, Maggie finally spoke, her voice cracking with disuse. "Where are we going?"

"Just a stream up ahead." Michonne walked easily, while Maggie hugged herself tightly, feeling the uncertainty in the trees around her. "That's the first I've heard you speak in days."

"There's not much to say."

Michonne looked back at her over her shoulder, smiling sympathetically. "And not much time to say it."

Maggie grimaced. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Michonne had already turned back around. "It's supposed to make you feel something."

Maggie just followed, not knowing how to take her words. She felt concern in them, but she also felt like this was some sort of test, and she wasn't sure she appreciated it. A hundred more yards, and Maggie saw the stream. Michonne knelt by the water, and took a torn piece of cloth out of her pack. She let it soak in the stream and held it out to Maggie. Without a word, Maggie took it, feeling slightly embarrassed. Did she really look so much of a mess? She began to wipe down her face, feeling the cold water like ice on her skin. It felt real. It felt good.

"We're heading west. We'll be in Alabama tomorrow." Michonne looked at her expectantly, but Maggie didn't know what to say. "Are you going to be ready for all this? No telling what we might find out there. What kind of people."

"I'll be fine." Her voice betrayed her lack of confidence.

But Michonne just nodded sagely from where she knelt. "You will be. You have _us_. Okay?"

Maggie felt those horrid tears threaten to rise up, but she bit her lip and forced them back.

Michonne saw the tremble in Maggie's face, and rose towards her, reaching her hand out. Slowly, hesitantly, Maggie reciprocated, letting her hand be taken in the other woman's strong, callused one. When Michonne spoke again, they were eye-to-eye. "_We_ are all we have. Right now. It has to be enough to keep us going. I don't know what we'll find out there. But this group, all of _you_, is what I live for and fight for every day. Help me do that, Maggie. Help us keep going."


	3. Chapter 3

They walked for two more days, rarely speaking amongst themselves. Maggie remembered where they were heading, which was nowhere in particular. West, just west. The plan was to head through Alabama, then Mississippi, and Arkansas; to make their way to parts of the country less inhabited by both walkers and survivors. At some point amidst their sudden departure from the hospital and Atlanta, Glenn and Abraham had explained the Washington D.C. trip to Rick. He'd let Eugene stay, which was more than many of the group had expected from him. But there'd been no more talk of D.C. or any possibility of hope in that part of the country. Instead, he'd led them the opposite direction, to open country he hoped would allow them to live in some semblance of peace.

Maggie stuck mostly with Michonne, though Glenn was always a close distance. Michonne's silent strength gave her comfort, while Glenn's presence only made her feel pitiful. She hadn't wanted him to see that side of her ever again, not after the incidence with the Governor, when she'd wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again. Maggie had admittedly always been a control freak, and this lifestyle didn't exactly accommodate that anymore. While Beth had always been sweet and gracious, she was more likely to fly into a rage when things didn't go her way. She'd always felt she was a force to be reckoned with; but now she just wondered if she was a loose cannon waiting to go off at any moment.

Tara stuck around with Glenn though, for which Maggie was intensely grateful. She didn't want to hurt him. She just needed time alone to heal. He could never understand how she felt. His family was likely dead too. But he hadn't had to see it actually happen. Maggie had completely blocked out her father's death. Any time it crept too close to the sunlight, she immediately wanted to vomit. She just had to forget it no matter what. Beth was different though. Seeing Daryl carrying her, she looked just like a doll. So fragile, yet completely intact. Maggie hadn't been certain at first what she was seeing. Her first thought was that Beth was simply unconscious. But then she saw Daryl's face, and she knew. She'd known right away.

She looked for Daryl and saw him walking ahead with Rick and Carol. He was different, walking with his shoulders slumped, barely looking up from the ground, even when Carol spoke to him gently. He looked weaker somehow. She knew he was the only one feeling even an iota of the pain she was feeling now. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to speak with him or not. As much as Beth was her own flesh and blood, Daryl's loss seemed so much more private. It made her curious what had happened between the two of them before Terminus, and curiosity was about as positive of a feeling as she was getting these days. She knew in her old life, the thought of her young sister with a man as old as Daryl would have disgusted her. But she could reconcile it with herself now, if it meant that her sister had had some sort of happiness being with him. They were all old now anyway.

She kept putting one foot in front of the other. Michonne looked over at her and smiled. Carl came up beside them too, giving Maggie an uncertain, yet hopeful glance under the brim of his Dad's hat. She couldn't help herself, the kid was trying; and he'd certainly cared for her sister too. She half-smiled back, for probably the first time since before the hospital, and Carl gave her a surprised all-out grin in response. He started to speak, but all of a sudden, he stopped; and Maggie realized she couldn't hear what he had been saying in the first place. His eyes went up to the sky, and she saw the eyes of all the others do the same. And then the strangest realization of her life occurred when she recognized the thunderous, droning noise from above as part of a world she had thought she'd never see again, so much so that it appeared as some fantastical flying creature. Passing just above the tree-line over their heads, much too close for comfort, was the bullet-shaped body of a Boeing-747, wings outspread like a dove's.


End file.
